Thursday, June 11, 2015

Wolf Quest Part XII

Part 12 of the Wolf Quest. It's been a while since I wrote about this journey from Baja California to Ellesmere Island to raise awareness about the Arctic Wolf, whose habitat is being attacked by oil speculators. I've been sick from some food poisoning again. Awful. Swollen colon. Vomiting. I'm sure I have heart disease too. Maybe skin cancer. And hair loss. Arthritis of the ego. 40+ years on this planet feels about like my limit. I don't know how people can reach 50 with their pride intact but I know their prostates are swollen like rotting bags of fetid urine. I really don't. Earlier today I had tube of hot water shoved in my ass because the swollen colon was impacting all the pizza I've been eating. I mean, it's not polite conversation, and if that's what the future has for me then I think I'll pass. The plumbing on this old house is ruined.

But that's another topic.

The climate has been in the news. We have entered the monsoon season in Guatemala which involves flooding and mudslides and pale Oggy skin from lack of sun. But that's expected here. Other places are dry as dust. The desertification of North America will take a few hundred years but it's a guarantee. The world of Mad Max will definitely become a reality in New Mexico and Arizona. This can be seen 2 ways: 1) It's inevitable but people live, fuck, have kids, die, repeat, so does it really matter? Earth was never a Garden of Eden, so the degree of inhospitable climate is kind of irrelevant. It will always be Dog eat Dog. 2) Morally we have a responsibility to the future, blah blah, ethics, blah blah, Koch Brothers are evil, blah blah.


I go back and forth between these two viewpoints because I have a Borderline Personality Disorder and I was raised by Narcissists and I have toxic loneliness and am tortured by my past. But what does that have to do with the price of Cod? I'll tell you, not much. The world has better odds of reaching a 6 degree Celsius  increase which would exterminate all life, than the odds of a plane crashing or you being shot randomly in a mugging. See what I'm saying? The odds of a planet wide extinction caused by humans in the next century is about 1:100 and 'improving' every day. The odds of dying on a plane are as likely that you are going to win the lottery. And being shot is about the same. One in a million. But plane safety and private gun ownership is all the hot topic. WHY THE FUCK IS THAT TRUE? We might as well have weekly discussions on how to win the lottery or seminars on "How to Avoid Being Hit By Falling Space Junk." It's total bullshit. You are far more likely to die because of climate related crisis than die in a plane crash or get shot. But the #1 news story is plane crashes or lurid private murders.



I've been at war with several mental midgets who defend shit like this:
imageedit_4_2286309499













...and while it keeps me distracted I don't like myself any more. The topic of Global Anthropomorphic Climate Change is one that only adults should talk about. And I'm afraid adults are either non-existent, or primarily concerned with their immediate survival needs. And the realities of reversing Climate Change are arguably beyond the scope of most people's intellect. People want whatever is possible to invent. They want robots that look like R2-D2 and keep beer cold. They want remote control internet dildos and digital watches that have resources that required civil wars to acquire. And civil wars ripple out into the world as resource sinks, and the resource sinks cause refugees and rescue ships and huge demands of fossil fuels that would ordinarily be in low demand. This is simple for me to grasp but well beyond the realm of thug cops who pistol whip girls in Bikinis and the mouth-breather Conservetards who defend them, and I'm thinking humanity is basically at that level, a step above blind service dogs, and a step below a mountain Gorilla. Autistic computer engineers manufactured deadly instruments of distraction without any recognition of the ripple effect, dumb apes bought digital dildos with remote control for their ass plugs and fat slobs with Whataburger tattoos on their ham hock ass cheek. That's been the path to present day and my time is mostly spent trying to architect a path to salvation. Some of my mental propositions have been blatantly apocalyptic. Some have been mildly genocidal. Some are simple homicide. Most are bleakly bled dry of validity by the stark growth of reality. Humans are not evolved to the point of self-salvation. We are self-destructive narcissists in a way that even Oggy can't grasp. Led by idiots, provided for by autistic html savants, sucking on the tit of despair we pistol whip children, beat our chests like apes in a cage. Complete decay of self-preservation. Consumption and production. Consumption and production. A cycle of shit and food. Simple organisms reproducing beyond all rational levels based on the mystic advice of dead prophets resurrected by delusional dumb beasts in fancy stained glass caves, reading fabricated fables on parchment flesh. This is the reality, like a dystopian porn novel where Mad Max is worshiped like Jesus. Who will worship my swollen colon?

I drove thousands of miles in the 1969 Ford Econoline to raise awareness about climate change and how it affects the Arctic Wolf habitat on Ellesmere Island. Access to the Arctic means oil exploration. At some point in the far distant past (300 million years ago) the arctic was a shallow sea, covered with bacteria that became crude oil due to compression. Apparently we must spend the next 300 Million years retrieving every drop of this oil and burning it. Because life as a dumb ape digging for roots is no good. Right? We have to learn about combustion and space ships because that's important! Oh, we'll still die after a life of arthritis and self torture but at least we doomed the planet to irreversible climate collapse. That's our legacy. I really do blame the emotionally challenged Asperger people who posed as engineers because I think at the root of their goal was the ultimate destruction of mankind. Some people like that Lanza kid who murdered the school children only want to test the bounds of emotion by inflicting death on a handful of innocent. But others have grand goals of global genocide and they set in motion a chain reaction that is going to achieve exactly that. They designed gadgets that require lasting destruction and an infrastructure of genocide to create. No, I'm not going to justify my claims because that would presume it serves some purpose. My ultimate goal is not too different from the Mad Scientist Asperger Dude. I have Borderline Personality Disorder but not Asperger; however, my personality disorder gives me insight into the mad scientist mentality that the sheep of the world are so blindly following and the satisfaction of finally unraveling the mystery of global genocide is enough to satisfy me. I don't actually want to save humanity, no, I simply want to reverse engineer the apocalyptic decline, and I have succeeded at great personal loss. Was it worth it? Yes. I simply had to know what went wrong and I have concluded it was the blind allegiance to emotionless, possibly alien, gadget engineers. The gadget engineer has Aspergers syndrome so he has a calm and determined approach to global genocide, like any mass murderer. He can't physically kill everyone, but he can engineer a method or conveyance of self destruction and the first generation of Asperger assassins accomplished this with internal combustion engines. The second generation continued the assault with digital gadgets, silicon wafers, house-sized magnets bending ion implant streams. These are obviously insane and homicidal instruments of destruction but if he attached them to innocuous devices like PONG and Donkey Kong, then they were welcomed like the Wooden Horse filled with assassins into the Trojan lair.

Go ahead and laugh if you think this is insane ramblings of an emotionally arthritic magician. Go ahead. My time is almost over so it makes no difference. I have solved the puzzle and now I can describe the puzzle but I don't really care if anyone tries to reverse the genocidal trend that the Asperger engineers designed for humanity. They basically already won because the climate trend is toward apocalypse. They successfully destroyed humanity, or engineered a method by which humanity would destroy itself. Ingenious. Congratulations. But this is one cocksucker you didn't fool. No. I figured you out, mad genius. I solved your riddle. I'm the Sherlock Holmes to you Dr. Watson. I BEAT you. But I get the last laugh, because I DON'T CARE. You can kill humanity. The one person on earth who uncovered your diabolical plan and I have a personality disorder that makes me NOT CARE. See? I only wanted the satisfaction of figuring out how you managed to engineer a global genocide and I figured it out. That's my goal. You can kill everyone but I get the last laugh since I know the truth. I WIN!

The goal of the Wolf Quest was partly an effort to reveal the true nature of our global assassins. Everything I do is selfishly motivated by my narcissistic personality and I needed some ruse in order to disguise myself as I went undercover into the lair of the enemy. I deceived the deceiver! I know the poison of which we drink. I know! But the knowledge is sufficient victory. The wolf was doomed before I was born. The trends were already firmly in place by the dumb idiots in power, the hegemonic dictators disguised as politicians. These people are disgusting but they are merely puppets in the grand theater that the real masterminds, the evil geniuses, designed. You're nothing but a paper dragon behind a bed sheet, who chases shadow virgins. All mad scientists have their lackeys, their henchmen, their hatchets and ours came in the form of slippery lawyers brainwashed into posing as politicians. And the sub-literate masses embraced their candy-coated campaigns with the zeal of a pedophile on school picture day. So disgusting and such toothy glee, prancing in action socks, glimpsing the pretty panties in the football field, giddy with pre-coitus erection anticipation. You pedantic sycophant fucks! You fell for a diabolical ruse to entice you to incest, to fuck your own offspring with prosthetic cocks! So disgusting, so vile, so low with your remote control in one hand and your soul stuffed in the couch cushions. Repulsive.

These were the thoughts I had as I drove North from Goose Bay to the absolute Northeastern most road in North America. The road called 520 ends in an Innu reservation called Sheshatshiu. I saw many different spellings of that town. Across the river that divides cultures is North West River, which is officially the dead end of Northeast American land travel. Innu are aboriginal North Americans, part of the pre-asperger-assassin generation of land stewards who were eradicated when genocidal European religious zealots arrived. Sheshatshiu is one remaining community of these land stewards and I visited their museum and learned a similar call for awakening is being pursued by a few of their holy spirit guides. I wanted to meet these activists but could not arrange it. I was at the end of the road and had no resources, no gas, no money, no food, the van was running on 2 gears and I thought I might have to drive in reverse all the way to New Foundland. 
End of road


One bit of interesting detail is a book called The Lure of The Labrador Wild. I had been running into artifacts related to this book since Labrador City and I recommend the book for any travel adventure lover. It's actually 110 years old this year and their journey began from North West River on July 15th 1903. I was there July 5th, 2011 and I can only hope in 110 years someone will read my Wolf Quest essay although the detail and narrative Wallace provides is much different from my moral quest diary. Well, the story begins in 1903 New York but the adventure properly begins in North West River. It was the last place these three men were seen before attempting to navigate up The Naskaupi/Nascaupee River. Well, they didn't go up that river because there are no signs, and that's where there problems began. Sheshatshiu/North West River was the launching point of their canoe expedition and recovered personal artifacts are in the museum. There is a docudrama about it but I can't find a full length version online. This incredible tale was only told in part because the surviving members boiled the skull and hoofs and maggot infested hide of a caribou to eat one of the last meals. I think of that fact when I consider Alexander Supertramp in Alaska, shooting a caribou and then watching it rot in disgust like he was expecting a Big Mac to magically appear, and apparently disposing of the corpse so that when times got really tough he could not such the marrow from the bones or make maggot stew, such as the Labrador party did in 1903. The situations were quite similar and the men who survived in Labrador resorted to unspeakable measures to live. There's a lesson in these stories that is worth learning.
The author and his beard in North West River, Labrador

 
The only way to continue north from Sheshatshiu is to get a canoe or get on the cargo ferry that delivers supplies up the coast of Labrador. Although it's a cargo ship and you sleep on the deck and don't take up any space the price of passage was beyond any amount I could come up with or collect by playing Harmonica on the street. And it involved leaving the van in a deserted parking lot on the edge of a river, taking the trip 3 days up the coast and either immediately coming back on the 3 day journey south or else staying in Nain, Inuit village until the boat returns a week later, if it returns. Innu is the term for first nation communities living in the interior. Inuit are the communities living on the coast and can be considered more like Eskimos, although that's a term they probably don't identify with. In Nain, there are no tourist facilities at all so I would have to take my bell bottom pants, a tent, and a raincoat to the village and fight stray dogs for scraps of caribou meat off leg bones, all while explaining that I've been sent from the future to save humanity.
It looks like Elvish
And that would be entirely to wait for a passing sailboat or crab boat going to Baffin Island or to Nuuk, Greenland...which would leave me in Greenland, waiting for a research vessel or even an oil exploration craft going to Baffin Bay or the North West Passage or Northern Greenland and, "Maybe could you drop me off on Ellesmere Island?" where life expectancy is about 3 weeks. And I honestly wanted to try all of that because I felt the climate change was apocalyptic and if there was a small chance of getting to Ellesmere Island and spreading the message of Arctic conservation then I had to take it. This is the fate of all humanity, but the cargo ship was not there. And it wasn't coming back any time soon. And the price was $300 one way if it ever did get back. I asked if any private boats needed a deckhand going north and had no luck.


So, you see the situation? My plan from the beginning was to get myself as close as possible to Ellesmere Island and hope fate would help me cover the remaining distance. Fate ignored me in Sheshatshiu so I decided to press on to the East and maybe on the coast of Labrador I would have better luck. Well, the distance from Sheshatshiu to the  ferry port leading to New Foundland Island is about 420 miles of pure dirt/gravel road and the van had 2 gears and I had a few packs of noodles. I looked on my road map and found that my map was so old, or the road was so new, that the road from Goose Bay to the coast didn't exist yet. But there was no way to get lost since there were no intersections. To make matters worse, I picked up two hitchhikers going to central New Foundland for a Kiss Concert. Water was pouring up from the engine cover as it was raining non-stop. Mosquitoes were ferocious and the traveler's faces were swollen and bloodied. The inside of the van was covered with blood and mosquito carcases as I had to murder hundreds in order to sleep, even with a Mexican mosquito net to protect me. I've fed mosquitoes in Alaska and Labrador with my blood and they are equally awful. One did not walk; one swam through a sea of vampires. Dillon Hubbard wrote so eloquently in 1904, 

"For the first time we now realised the full form of what had been told us about the fly pest of Labrador. We had considered them annoying at Rigolet and Northwest River, but as soon as we began to buck the rapids they came upon us in clouds. They got into our nostrils, into our ears, into our mouths, into our eyes even, and our faces and hands were streaked with blood from their bites. They were villainous, hellish. Hubbard frequently remarked that the mosquitoes seemed friendly in contrast—and the mosquitoes were by no means considerate of our feelings and comfort either."

The Kiss zealots' response when I told them I was from the future and that I had to find the Arctic Wolf to save humanity?


"Cool."



Here are links to the installments of the Wolf Quest




Creative Commons License
Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.